An Afternoon Excursion
by OldSFfan
Summary: An unexpected guest goes for a ride with Hawke and Dom on Airwolf, but trouble follows.


Airwolf and its characters belong to the creators and copyright holders. I'm just taking them off the shelf to let them play for a while. Reference is made to the following episodes: "To Snare a Wolf" and "Santini's Millions."

An Afternoon Excursion

On Monday morning Dom was talking animatedly on the phone when Cait and String wheeled the R22 into the hangar. Cait noticed he was dressed in his gray three-piece-suit. "Who is Dom talking to?" she asked Jo. "Something to do with that Barron's Technology Services board meeting?"

"No. He's dressed up for the board of directors meeting, but you know Schmitt Air Cargo?"

"Oh, right. The older boy got hurt in a car accident."

"Dom is trying to get a picnic together to raise money to help with the rehab."

"Saint Dominic," String said, too softly for Dom to hear. "He's the one everybody can count on for help." Louder, he said, "We'll have to see how we can help with the Schmitt boy."

"Yeah," Jo said, smiling, and mouthed, "Saint Dominic."

Dom put the phone down. "Well, we have a stunt to plan," he announced. "Gotta pay the bills, you know. But I've got that board meeting. String, could you set the stunt up?"

"Sure, Dom. Long meeting?"

"Nah, it's routine. I'll be back this afternoon." He picked up his briefcase and headed for his car.

Cait shook her head. "Dom, give our regards to Mr. Barron."

"Will do. You get to work on that stunt, now."

"That is a remarkable person," Cait said, as Dom drove away. String gave her a quick hug, fond smile for her and for Dom, and watched her go into the bathroom to change into her coveralls. After planning the stunt, she and String had to give the R22 its monthly engine check. Lately Cait had been using bright blue coveralls that brought out the bright blue of her eyes and contrasted nicely with her red hair. String appreciated the view.

Mike was flying a charter. Toni Donatelli, Santini Air's part-time pilot, was busy meeting with the publisher of her second novel. Jo, String and Cait were left to discuss the new film stunt with Jo. Santini Air wasn't exactly short-handed, but it was getting close. "Are you up to it?" Jo asked String. "It can't be Cait. The camera is going to come in too close."

The sound of Saint John's car parking outside the hangar, interrupted them. "Saint John," both Cait and String said.

He walked in, very pleased with the world this warm morning. "Have we got a film stunt for you," String greeted him.

"Oh, no. Not that Bellisarius what's-his-name. I hit the same mark at least ten times the last time, and he kept asking for another take."

"You're closest to the actor's physical type."

"What, emaciated?

"Height, if not weight."

"I don't suppose saying no would work."

"Nope."

Jo said, "Well, that's settled. The shoot is Friday, so we have a few days to set it up."

"Right. So now tell me about this stunt, and how I'm going to double for a man who weighs twenty pounds more than me and is ten years younger."

"Padding," String offered.

A white limo pulled up outside the hangar. Cait said "Uh oh." A woman dressed all in white climbed out of the driver's seat and opened the doors. Jason Locke walked into the Santini Air hangar, accompanied by Archangel dressed in his usual white, and an authoritative older man with gray hair, dressed in a pin-striped navy blue suit.

Hawke stared in stunned confusion. The older man walked up to String. "Hawke, I'm glad you survived the bombing," he said, hand out.

Hawke returned the handshake automatically. "Zeus."

A reluctant smile creased the older man's face. "I have a favor to ask you, if I have the right to ask."

Reduced by astonishment to simply repeating what Zeus said, Hawke said, "Favor?"

"I'm retiring. I'd like to go along on an Airwolf mission, if it's a mission that wouldn't be jeopardized by carrying a passenger, before I leave the Firm."

String shook his head. "I had an agreement with Archangel. My brother is back, and I gave Airwolf back. I don't fly her anymore," he said. "Besides, I'm really not one hundred percent yet, even on ordinary choppers. Airwolf has an excellent crew. I'm sure they would be happy to take you up."

Jo had come out from the office and stood watching. Zeus nodded to her. "Miss Santini," he acknowledged. "And Miss O'Shannessey." He turned back to Hawke, "Then if not a mission, would you consider taking me for a ride? The two of you, Hawke and Mr. Santini?"

"Why?"

"I've had my credibility, my career, even my personal safety, on the line for you and Airwolf for over three years. I'm going to retire. I'd at least like to ride in her, with you. Archangel has ridden with you several times."

Michael Coldsmith-Briggs III, code-named Archangel, had never seen the normally taciturn Hawke so completely at a loss for words. Hawke shrugged helplessly. "Honestly, I'm not fit to fly her. She's not an ordinary ship. If you want a tame little jaunt, I could manage it, but I haven't been cleared, medically, to pull the kind of Gs that would really show you what she feels like."

"Hawke, I'm retiring in part for medical reasons. I shouldn't do it either."

Hawke started laughing, shook his head and spread his hands. "It was such a comfortable adversarial relationship… I gather it's okay with you, Jason?" He waited for Locke's nod of confirmation. "Fine. When do you want to do it?"

"Sometime this week? My thirty years are over next week. Do you want to come to the farewell dinner? It's black tie. I had the impression you'd be grateful to be left out."

"You're right. I'd rather not, no offense intended. Let's go check on Dominic's schedule. We were just trying to decide which of us was going to fly a stunt, and it couldn't be Dom, Cait, or me."

"So you're all free."

"Someone has to work ground and someone has to fly the camera ship."

Protectively Saint John stood next to String.

"Zeus, I'd like to introduce you to my brother, Saint John Hawke. Saint John, the director of the Firm, code name Zeus. I'm sorry, I don't know your real name."

Again, a hand extended. "It's classified, and for the next two weeks, I'm still Zeus. Let me enjoy it. So you're the reason Hawke, here, stole our aircraft."

"That's what I've been told." Saint John took the offered hand. "Zeus."

"Hawke."

String walked into the office and reviewed Dom's calendar. He penciled in, "Airwolf excursion with Zeus," and put a question mark after it, in the Wednesday column at 10:30 in the morning. He walked back out to the hangar floor. "I think we can set a time, how about on the helipad at Knightsbridge at noon on Wednesday? Jason, is that acceptable?"

"A little obvious, but sure."

Zeus said, "I look forward to it."

Michael took String aside. "Mind if I drop in this evening? We'll bring fish and chips."

"Good idea," he said quietly. "We'll be home by six." The remarkable contingent got back into the white limousine and drove off.

"Dom isn't going to believe this," String said. "Well, let's plan that stunt."

* * *

><p>Marella set the white helicopter down on the dock at Eagle Lake. Technically she was on a leave of absence from the Firm, but she still flew the helicopter that Michael reserved for his use. Cait had parked their smaller ship on the new helipad behind the cabin to leave room for Michael and Marella's ship. Michael must have come straight from the office, only the darkened left lens on his eyeglasses and his mahogany cane breaking the pristine white of his outfit. Marella, after a day at the hospital in her pediatric residency, had changed her scrubs for khaki slacks and a cinnamon colored sweater that brought out the rich highlights in her dark hair.<p>

Over fish and chips and beer, iced tea for Marella since she was flying that evening, String asked, "What was all that about today? I didn't know the Firm had a mandatory retirement age."

"We don't. But that was about, amazingly enough, exactly what Zeus said. He's retiring, and he wants a ride in Airwolf."

"It'll be the first time I've had any straightforward dealings with him."

"Yes, well, stranger things have happened."

"He's really sick?"

"Emphysema. He should not be going to Mach 1 in Airwolf. How are you doing?"

"I have been up in Airwolf, thanks to Saint John, and I tried turbos but I didn't do any combat maneuvers. Between healing up from a punctured lung and smoke inhalation, my doctor says if I try anything fancy, I should have a copilot aboard. Of course, I was planning to give it a shot soon." He passed the vinegar and ketchup down to Caitlin and dropped a couple fries under the table to Tet. He noticed Le Van slipping some fish to the dog as well. He hoped the greasy coating didn't give Tet an upset stomach. "Remember, Airwolf isn't my ship anymore. I don't fly her on missions."

"What are you trying to do, bringing Airwolf to Knightsbridge at high noon on Wednesday? Should I be concerned?"

"You and Jason agreed to it."

"That we did. Why are we doing it?"

"Bluntly, as long as Airwolf is a secret, everyone connected with her is in danger. Since her existence isn't a secret to any military or intelligence agency in the world anymore, I offered the Firm a chance to bring her in from the cold, so to speak, and you took it. That's not giving away her special features or specifications. I'd like my brother to be safer than I was. Don't tell me that I took you by surprise."

"Not entirely. I know how you feel about it." Michael shook his head, a reluctant smile on his face. "Well, good luck. I don't know what to tell you about Wednesday. Give him a nice ride and park it, I suppose."

"Michael, come along. I could use a mediator."

"That sounds wonderful," Michael drawled. "If we're not having some sort of international crisis, I'll see if I can fit it in. Or if I can't manufacture some sort of international crisis…"

"It's my day off," Marella told him, "Cait and I will have a lovely visit in the hangar, or maybe we'll go out to lunch, and laugh about the flying boys' club. You can translate from spy to English for String and Dominic."

"No fair," Michael complained to her. "You'll be having all the fun. Better company, too."

* * *

><p>Wednesday morning was a perfect day for flying, warm, nearly windless, with unlimited visibility. String set Airwolf down on the helipad at the Firm's western headquarters at Knightsbridge and noticed that a sizeable audience had turned out to watch. "Do you think anyone doesn't know about our top-secret, classified prototype?" Michael asked no one in particular as he climbed in next to Dom.<p>

Dominic had already shaken hands with their passengers and welcomed them aboard. Zeus sat next to String in the front left seat. "Let's go, String," Dom reminded him.

"Seriously, Michael, we ought to fly her up to Reno this September for the Air Races and show her off," Hawke commented, as he lifted the ship off gently into the bright noonday sun. "The Air Force shows off classified aircraft sometimes."

"That would be even more obvious, don't you think?" Michael responded.

Hawke shrugged. "It would be fun."

Hawke started out with a circuit over the Knightsbridge grounds, then took Airwolf higher. He had filed a flight plan east toward Palm Springs, then north towards Las Vegas. They flew out of the Los Angeles area, over the mountains, and into the desert. Palm Springs was visible ahead. "Ready for a little fun?" Hawke asked his passengers.

"I've waited years for it," Zeus commented.

"Dom," Hawke said, "Turbos." Santini engaged the turbos and Airwolf leapt forward above the few clouds. All four men were thrust backward in their seats. "Here we go." He took Airwolf in a wide arc, flew higher, then swooped down over the desert. The cars were tiny, far below on the highway. A thunderhead was forming over the gray granite cliffs of the mountain range above Palm Springs. He aimed Airwolf at its top and circled around it as if it were a maypole. Then he took the ship back over the desert heading for I-15 and the road to Las Vegas.

"Wow!" Dom said. "It's been too long since we've done that."

"Wow," Zeus echoed. His hands were clenched, white-knuckled, on the arms of the seat, but he relaxed and started to watch the scenery with the eagerness of a child.

"Let's take a little detour over to Mount Whitney, and then over Death Valley."

"String," Dom said. "We've got bogies."

"ID?"

"F-15s. Four of them."

"We're not that far from Nellis Air Force Base, but we haven't strayed into any closed airspace. Must be a routine patrol." He gained altitude to fly over Mount Whitney.

"String, they changed direction. They're following us."

"Michael, did you forget to warn anyone?"

"We contacted everybody but the Boy Scouts."

The radio broke into their discussion. "Airwolf."

"This is Airwolf," Dom said.

"This is Acting Director D. G. Bogard, Department of Public Security. Land at my instruction."

"Let me have the radio," Zeus said. He waited for the control to switch to him. "Bogard, I am the Director of the Federal Independent Reconnaissance Multi-Agency, code-named Zeus. This is an authorized flight in one of our aircraft."

"My agency has determined that Airwolf is being misused in your agency's hands and we are stepping in to correct that. Land at my instruction or I will order my aircraft to fire on you. I understand that your pilot is not capable of combat at this time."

Hawke made a throat slitting gesture to Dom who slapped the radio's switch to 'off.'

"He's gone insane," Michael said."

"Maybe so," String pointed out, "But he's got nearly as much firepower as I do, there are four of them, F-15s are faster than Airwolf, and I'm not going to fly against American jets. Dom, rig a homing beacon, something that Bogard's people won't detect, at least not right away. Michael, get on the scrambler and alert Santini Air and your people. Use your panic code. Bogard must be planning to jam our signals. Can the scrambler get through?"

"We'll see." Michael reached up to the scrambler and started talking softly and rapidly.

"Dom, radio on." He waited until the connection was live again. "Bogard, this is Stringfellow Hawke. I have passengers. I want your guarantee of their safety."

"Negative, Hawke. You're all criminals and I plan to hold all of you." Michael spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness, then made the classic circular gesture by his temple for crazy.

"Gentlemen, I think we're stuck, for now," Hawke said, knowing the radio was on. "Where do you want me to set down, Bogard?"

"You will be escorted by the jets to a destination of my choosing. For now, you will follow the lead jet toward the Nevada Test Site."

Hawke again made the cutting gesture. Dom turned the radio off. "What's down there?" he asked Dom, pointing at the town on the desert floor ahead.

"Barstow."

"Dom, find me the coordinates for the county courthouse. We're setting her down in the parking lot, on top of vehicles if necessary. Cut the turbos now." Airwolf felt as if it had hit a brick wall. "Let me know when we're two hundred feet over the courthouse, then I'll cut the rotors too. We'll auto-rotate in. Michael, when the radio is back on, spin Bogard a story about engine trouble and that I'm too busy fighting the controls to talk to him." The drop in altitude was sickening. Knowing how safe he was in Hawke's hands, Michael still grabbed Zeus's seatback and hung on.

"We're there," Dom said. Hawke cut power to the engines, while Dom turned the radio back on and nodded to Michael.

"Bogard," Michael said. "We've got a situation here. Our engines are failing. We are going down. Hawke is trying to keep us from crashing."

"Negative, Airwolf. Do not, I repeat, do not set down in Barstow. I will fire on you."

"Bogard, we have no choice. We're trying to hit that parking lot or the field next to the San Bernardino County courthouse. I doubt the roof can support her." Dom switched the radio off.

The landing was not gentle, narrowly missing several pick-up trucks and a Buick station wagon. The tidy, beige, one-story courthouse building was across the parking lot. "Keep the doors locked. Bogard must be in a chopper. He can't land the F-15s here and unless he's completely insane he won't fire on us here. Of course, he might be completely insane. Michael, did you get through?"

"I reached Locke, before we were cut off. He should be calling the Pentagon, Nellis base command, the White House, and the local police. No one knows how to stop Bogard, since he's gone rogue, but the jets are not his and Nellis command should be calling them off. Then we can lift off. My office is going to send Zebra Squad for cover, but I don't know how long that will take. I also reached Santini Air and talked to Miss Santini for about ten seconds."

"Dom, do you think the homing beacon got past jamming?"

"Probably at first. The computer should identify the jamming frequencies in a minute and I can adjust the beacon. We might be able to play frequency tag for a while. The gear in the Lair might be able to keep track of Airwolf if we have to go."

The unusual visitor in the courthouse parking lot was attracting attention. People in business suits, police officers, and curious onlookers were gathering. A man in a business suit carrying a briefcase ran for a blue Ford Bronco. Two women, one in a beige dress with heels and the other in a red pantsuit got into a Japanese compact and drove away. Three police officers advanced on Airwolf, weapons drawn.

"String," Dom broke in. "Choppers."

"Whose?"

"I don't know, but I can guess. Bogard must have had them standing by."

Zeus was shaking his head in the Airwolf helmet. He lifted it off and put on headphones instead. "Hawke, Santini, I'm sorry. I know this looks bad, but I had no idea."

"Well, you're trapped here with us. We didn't know Bogard was loose. When we last saw him, he was being marched away under arrest by an Air Force colonel."

Dom watched his screen for a minute. "The F-15s are leaving. But the choppers have us cornered."

"Right. Turn on the radio."

"Hawke, you will be escorted to a landing place of my choosing."

"I don't think so. We have a stand-off, Bogard."

He made the cut-off gesture again. "Dom, turn on the loudspeaker. We've got to warn these people. Michael, do it. Sound official."

Michael picked up the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen, we in the black helicopter are the victims of an attempted aircraft hijacking. We are representatives of the U. S. Federal Independent Reconaissance Multi-Agency. We have called for assistance and your county law enforcement authorities have been notified, but for the time being, we don't want you to get hurt. Please withdraw from the parking lot, drive your vehicles away if you can, and I hope that this situation will be resolved soon." He flicked the switch off.

"So what now?"

"We hunker down. Dom, how many helicopters does Bogard have?"

"Five, including the one he's in. All Apaches."

"Armament?"

"They're loaded. We have more firepower, but we don't want to use it here. They've also got us boxed in, in terms of a rapid escape."

"I fooled him once, but I had to fly through an aerial bombardment to do it. We can't do that again. However, we can turn our engines off. This could end up as simple as waiting for him to run out of gas, or when the Firm's cover gets here."

Through the windshield Hawke watched local police setting up a cordon around the parking lot where Airwolf rested. They seemed to be evacuating nearby shops and the courthouse.

Dom was watching the instruments. "Bogard is setting three of his birds down. Two are hovering above us. One is across the street, one is on the front lawn of the courthouse, and one in the park across the street. Looks like most of the private vehicles have been moved out of the parking lot."

"Well, that gives us some maneuvering room but less cover. We can lift off a lot faster than he can, but not with helicopters in the way. Dom, did Saint John and Mike reload the weapons?"

"Instruments say we're fully loaded."

"Good. I hope we don't need them."

"Dom," Michael interjected. "I don't trust Bogard not to fire on innocent bystanders."

"I don't either."

"It's going to get hot in here."

"It will for Bogard too."

They sat in uncomfortable silence for an interminable few minutes. The cockpit of the black gunship started to warm up in the intense desert sun. "Do you think he's really the acting director of that department of public whatever?" Dom asked.

"I intend to find out," Michael said. The scrambler tone sounded. Michael hit the button."

"Airwolf?" It was Saint John's voice.

"This is Archangel. Go ahead."

"Can you hold on for a little bit?"

"We don't have any choice. What?"

"Wait and see."

The jamming signal cut him off. "Bogard may be jamming all the local communications, besides our signals. I hope he isn't messing up the local fire and police dispatch."

"What do you suppose Saint John meant by that?" Hawke asked.

"String, heads up. Looks like one of Bogard's choppers is lining up to fire on us, on our six."

Hawke started the mains. "Dom, combat mode." As soon as the engines came on, he lifted off to hover just above the parking lot and wheeled Airwolf to face the attacker. Bogard's Apache sat across the street, in front of a strip mall. Hawke noticed a wedding apparel shop and a hardware store. "We can't fire on him there," Hawke said.

Another helicopter moved into place in front of the courthouse. "And at nine o'clock."

"Bogard is going to shoot up the town, or force us to. This is nuts. We're going to have to make a run for it."

"Another one powering up. He's in front of that church. Wait."

"What?"

"More bogies. ID…that's weird."

"Oh, great. What's weird?"

"It's all sorts of different civilian choppers. They're headed this way."

One by one, helicopters settled around Airwolf in the parking lot and in every available space around the street and courthouse. Hawke recognized the Jet Ranger from Santini Air, the smaller light blue Robinson R22 from Montcreith Charters down the airfield from Santini Air, and the green logo on the Hughes from Schmitt Air Cargo. A Long Ranger with Barron's Technology Services emblazoned on the side set down on the street by the parking lot. Angie, the old aircraft painter Dom had relied on for twenty years, landed his small, used personal chopper, painted bright red. A Squirrel from Fuji Air Charters set down on the far side of the parking lot, giving a sapling a trim as it settled. String watched another four or five helicopters land on the street and in the park across the street. The radio crackled. Saint John's voice filled the cockpit. "This is Santini Air, and Schmitt Air Cargo, and Montcreith Charters and Angelo's Aircraft Painting and half a dozen other friends of Dominic Santini. We have come to see that this nonsense ends now."

Hawke said, "Bogard, if you're jamming, I suggest you stop it and listen."

"What are you up to, Hawke?" Bogard's voice.

"Are you prepared to fire on all these civilians?"

The answer seemed to be no. One by one, the Bogard's five helicopters lifted off. Hawke let go of the breath he had been holding and turned to his passenger. "Do you want me to let him go?"

"Hell, no," Zeus said. "I'll take care of the paperwork."

"Good enough." Airwolf lifted off with a speed that none of the nearby aircraft could match. "Dom, let me have the radio, standard frequency." He waited a moment. "Saint John, thank everyone for us. We're going to take out the trash, now."

"Public service," Saint John responded.

"String, you and Dom come back safe, y'hear," Cait added.

"Will do. See you soon."

Bogard's small group was heading for the Nevada desert. "Bogard, my turn. Land at my instruction."

"We outnumber you, Hawke." Hawke made the cut sign with his hand and the radio went silent.

"Dom, what's on the ground?"

"Empty playa. Not even Joshua trees. We're heading for Nellis, but we aren't there yet."

"Then there's no need for an environmental impact statement. Dom, do we know which bird he's in?"

"The one in the middle."

"Good enough. Turbos. Radio on." The sudden acceleration shoved him backwards in his seat. "Bogard, you don't have my firepower. You know it. Why don't you land and have your people set down? Save me the trouble of hurting your team, or you, or should I demonstrate Airwolf's full capabilities on you?"

"String," Dom said, "more bogies. ID… They're Zebra Squad."

"It's about time. Michael, tell them to follow us, but give us maneuvering room."

Michael hit the scrambler. "Gentlemen, this is Archangel. We are the lead aircraft. Stay back until we call for you."

"This is Jason Locke. Zebra Squad has been so informed."

Hawke took Airwolf to fifteen thousand feet. Bogard's head start dropped to a distance of ten miles. "Bogard," Hawke said into the radio, "it ends today."

Bogard's Apache wheeled so it was facing Airwolf. "Missile," Dom said.

"Sunburst."

The missile exploded as it hit the sunburst. "Another missile."

"Sunburst, Dom."

Dom hit the button. "Didn't take it."

"Here we go, then. Copperhead, Dom." Hawke rolled to starboard, then put Airwolf into a steep dive, rolled again to face the missile. He fired the copperhead and was pulling up into a climb as the missile exploded. He was seeing stars and trying not to cough as he wheeled to port as tightly as he could with Airwolf's considerable momentum. The last Apache in Bogard's group fired a missile. "Sunburst, Dom."

"Sunburst." The missile blew up.

"Bogard, save your people. Give it up," Hawke said into the radio.

"He's loading another one."

"Fine." Hawke set Airwolf into a dive at the Apache, chain guns chattering. The smaller helicopter burst into flame and spun down to the desert floor.

The rest of the Apaches turned toward Airwolf. "Bogard is going to get his whole group killed," Michael observed.

"Better them than us." Hawke aimed Airwolf for a spot in the sky above Bogard's ship and accelerated until his eyesight started to gray. He gulped air. He could hear Zeus wheezing beside him. "Bogard," he said into the radio. "Last chance."

"Not on your life, Hawke."

"No, on yours," he murmured. "Dom, another copperhead."

"You got it."

Hawke pointed Airwolf at Bogard's ship and fired. Bogard's Apache dissolved into a fireball. Bogard's remaining ships started to set down, one by one. Michael spoke rapidly into the scrambler, giving instructions to Zebra Squad. Hawke could see the Zebra Squad's Hueys settle by Bogard's group.

Hawke turned to Zeus. "More of a ride than you expected," he commented. He turned back to look at Dom. "Everybody all right back there?"

"We are fine, we are fine," Dom declared. Softer, he said, "We still got it, don't we, String?"

"Yeah, Dom, we still do." Hawke turned to his passenger. "Zeus, this is your trip. Want any more?"

"No, I think I'm ready to go home."

"So am I. Dom, plot us a course back to Knightsbridge."

The four flew in silence until the large office building came into view. "We're gonna have to host a thank you for everybody at the airfield," Dom observed. "Maybe this weekend. Michael, I think we solved a problem for the Firm, too. Want to pitch in for the drinks?"

"Now, Santini, that's not in my budget allocation," Zeus said.

"Actually," Michael interjected, "I think my hospitality budget can stretch that far. Bogard has cost us a lot more than that in time and productivity."

Hawke set Airwolf down gently on the helipad. Zeus turned to him and angled back to face Dom as well. "Fair enough. If it's a good use for some of Archangel's hospitality budget, I think the Director's Office will have to kick in some, too. As long as I get to come." Hawke turned the engines off. In the sudden silence, Zeus said, "My name is Howard Melkowsky."

Hawke extended his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Melkowsky."

"Hawke." They shook hands. "He reached back to Dom. "Santini. Thank you for a more exciting trip than I expected. I think the Firm got its money's worth with Airwolf, and with its remarkable crew." He opened the hatch and stepped out of Airwolf. Michael climbed out of the back and shut the hatch. Zeus turned back to wave at Hawke and Dominic. The two walked away in more harmony than Hawke had ever seen between them.

"If that don't beat all," Dom commented.

"Yeah," Hawke agreed. "Let's put the Lady to bed, Dom."

"You got it." They flew toward the Valley of the Gods.

* * *

><p>On Sunday the normally utilitarian environment of Santini Air's hangar was transformed. Brightly colored crepe paper bunting surrounded the tables laden with potato salad, condiments, and the makings of strawberry shortcake. One cooler held cans of soda, the other bottles of beer. Saint John drew grill duty just outside the hangar, tending hot dogs and hamburgers with long handled tongs.<p>

Jason took Hawke aside. Hawke stood with Cait tucked against his side, arm around her waist. "So was Bogard actually the acting director of that department?"

"No. He has powerful friends who got him out after he was arrested, but he was on leave for a nervous breakdown."

"Some breakdown. I can see throwing his weight around and hoodwinking someone at Nellis to authorize a flight of F-15s for an afternoon, but to bring his department's Apache pilots into it, he must have spun quite a story."

"He'd be tried for murder, if he weren't already dead." Jason turned to face Hawke and Caitlin. "String, you've proven you can still fly Airwolf. Dom can still handle the engineer's seat. Jo, Saint John, and Mike make a great team, but I suspect the Lady would do well with her original team, too. I know you miss flying Airwolf, Cait."

"Cait and I really shouldn't fly a mission together, Jason. I suspect Jo and Mike will have to deal with that, too. You can put a crewmate or a friend in harm's way. It's hard, but you can set your feelings aside. But when a crewmate is a lover or a wife, you can't trust your judgment."

"Or husband," Cait interjected.

"Tell me you won't miss it. Or that Dom won't miss it."

"Of course I miss it. But Dom is sixty-five. He's on Medicare. He is a great pilot and a great engineer, but… but he's my father."

"Why didn't that matter before?"

"We were still looking for Saint John, and I was too obsessed to let anything get in the way. Jason, I nearly lost Dom in that bombing." Hawke closed his eyes for a minute, trying to shake off the memory. "For God's sake, don't ever repeat what I just said to him. He took a swing at me, once, for saying that he was too old to do a stunt."

"I'd have liked to have seen that," Jason said, grinning. He raised his hands. "It's a party. You said you'd help out if I needed you. I just want you to know that I would welcome you all onto my team."

"Thank you. I'll think about what you've said. Cait makes her own decisions, and Dom is his own man; you'll have to speak to him. Now let's go thank all the good people who flew to help us."

"You're a worrywart," Cait told Hawke, as Jason walked into the hangar.

He grinned. "Could be worse; I could be a fussbudget."

"Like who?"

Dom held court in a corner of the hangar with Toni Donatelli sitting next to him. Nearby on a small table was an upturned hat with a sign, "Help rehab for Matthew Schmitt." It was filling up with bills and some checks.

The old friends and business partners and business rivals who had flown to the rescue in Barstow stood around visiting with one another. Hawke enjoyed watching wealthy industrialist Carl Barron, anonymous in slacks and a polo shirt, chatting with Dom's usual associates. Saint John, Jo, and Cait were the heroes of the hour, having organized the rescue flight to Barstow; but it was a measure of the regard that people of Van Nuys Airport held for Dominic Santini that they had been willing to drop what they were doing and go to his assistance.

Having spoken with everyone at the gathering, Saint John finally got to sit with Ellie and Joshua. Jo and Mike joined them. "Good party," Mike observed, when String walked over with Cait.

"Twenty years of running a business ethically and always being willing to help the other guy builds up a lot of good will," String said.

"Dom's quite a guy. Privilege to know him," Mike added.

"Yeah," Jo smiled, and rested a hand on Mike's arm. "It is."

Another car drove up and parked outside the hangar. Michael, Marella, Zeus, and a woman Hawke didn't recognize got out. Hawke welcomed Michael's party.

"Michael, Zeus, pardon me, Mr. Melkowsky, glad you could make it."

"Hawke, I'd like you to meet my wife, Charlene," Zeus said.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Melkowsky," he told the sweet-faced, gray-haired lady. "Come on in and I'll find you a place to sit and something to drink."

Hawke shepherded his new charges into the cheerful confines of the hangar with great satisfaction. He had his family. He had his friends. With the death of an old enemy, all were safer. And if he wanted it, he had the extraordinary helicopter that had been the center of his life for several remarkable years. It was a grand afternoon.


End file.
